


wanna get back to the simple things with you

by independentalto



Series: (all that i can hear is) a simple song [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, family au, marriage AU, their kids are daisy jemma and leo it is SOFT in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentalto/pseuds/independentalto
Summary: Sometimes, life gets complicated.
Relationships: Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Series: (all that i can hear is) a simple song [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594819
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	wanna get back to the simple things with you

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Simple Things" by Alexandre Desplat + Christina Perri.

Sometimes, Phil finds himself remembering his college days. 

Late-night Beer-io Kart tournaments with Maria, Victoria and Isabelle, prank wars with the underclassmen, even the grim sense of accomplishment they all felt at the end of an all-nighter. And of course, Melinda May -- their impromptu not dates that turned into dates, their falls apple picking, springs spent in the greenhouse, their winters spent curled up by the fire while they discussed their pasts, presents and futures. 

It'd never been a question of whether they'd spend the rest of their lives together: once Phil had found Melinda sleeping on his shoulder for the first time, he'd never been more sure of anything. (She would say it took a little while longer, but she came to the conclusion all the same.) They would have a house as tall as a mountain, they would have a handful of messy, lively children, they would have it all. 

And they got it all -- for the most part. They got the house; after a few apartments and several...interesting neighbors, they almost stumbled upon the two-story by accident. They got the children: Leo, Jemma and Daisy ranged from being spitting images of Phil to younger versions of Melinda's mother. They even got the relationship: time did nothing to diminish their love for each other, and would often start each morning with soft kisses and softer touches until one of the kids banged on their door.

But they also got the passage of time: raising three kids was a full-time job on top of their full time jobs. Their kids’ priorities became their priorities, whether it was Daisy taking a sudden interest in gymnastics by tumbling over everything in the house or Leo and Jemma simultaneously deciding they wanted to be scientists. Chemists, specifically. And as time went on and gymnastics turned to soccer and chemistry turned into zoology (Melinda would never forget the time all three of the children decided to adopt the local feral squirrel without telling them), the passion and care that had once been infused into their every move was replaced with general gratefulness and hurried shows of affection. 

Don’t get them wrong, it wasn’t as if they’d fallen out of love. But they’d become the one thing they’d sworn they wouldn’t be back in their college days: complacent. It was Phil who noticed it first, having turned the calendar to find that their tenth anniversary was the next week. Neither of them had remembered, and when he’d brought it up, Melinda’d informed him with a sad smile that that night was Daisy’s dance recital and showed him the tin Captain America cookie jar she’d gotten him. He’d laughed and showed her the small aluminium frame he’d commissioned for her, jagged lines displaying the first time they’d heard each of their children’s heartbeats. 

Ten was supposed to reflect the flexibility of their marriage, Phil figured. Well, it wouldn’t technically be flexible (after all, you couldn’t just leave three young kids at home without any notice), but the fact that Melinda wouldn’t notice his gift coming made it flexible, right? Right. At least, that’s what he told himself when he was looking over the itinerary for the final time. 

On their actual anniversary, Phil had told her he’d just wanted to give her something simple -- and nothing had been more pure and simple as the love she had for her children. But the true present was yet to come -- an escape back to the simple things, back when it had just been them, ready to take on the world without anything to weigh them down. 

The kids are sworn to secrecy, packed off to stay with Melinda’s mother for the week (“Don’t thank me for this, Philip. It’s been ten years and you two haven’t taken a vacation together.”) and Phil finds himself humming tropical tunes under his breath as he packs his wife a suitcase, masterfully organized from ten years of marriage and nearly twenty of friendship. Daisy, Leo and Jemma had even tried to offer their opinions (“I think the flower one looks prettiest on Mama!” “But what about the one with pineapples?” “Daddy, Petey at school thinks you shouldn’t pack anything. Why’s he say that?”) and finally settled for leaving small notes in the case. Instead of waiting for her to return home from work, Phil greets Melinda with a bouquet of flowers and a blindfold as soon as she walks out of her office. 

She doesn’t ask. She trusts him far too much for that. Instead, she lets him put the blindfold on, thanks him for the flowers, and waits patiently as he steers her through the airport, only handing her passport and boarding pass when they’re about to go through security. 

The first things Phil had learned about Melinda way back during their college days had been that one, no one messed with her, and two, she was a sucker for the ocean. The minute they touched down in Aruba, she was halfway to sprinting off the plane, desperate to smell the ocean air. (It’d also been where they’d first honeymooned, when they’d had nothing to worry about except for how they’d manage to get on the flight back.) 

Phil manages to score them a room up high with a balcony, allowing them an unfettered view of the beach any time of day. Their first couple of days are truly about getting back to the basics, stretching out across the king-sized bed relearning about themselves. The next few they spend by the beach, Phil choosing to soak up the sun and work on his tan (Seattle was rainy, okay?) while Melinda spends her time in the sea, running back and forth like a child and occasionally bringing her husband into her antics. 

Their third night, they head out onto the beach for a stargazing session offered by the hotel, and it’s there, cuddled together on the sand and gazing upon Ursa Minor, that Melinda whispers the dreaded question: 

“Is it bad that I don’t want to leave?” 

Phil just smiles and hands his wife her water bottle. He knows she’s been missing the kids; upon finding the notes they’d left her in the suitcase she’d spent a good ten minutes blowing her nose while trying to steal her cell phone from him so she could call her mother. As much as she loved her life in college (as much as they had), she wouldn’t have asked for a better way for it to turn out. And he knows she knows that -- but there was no harm in entertaining the view, just for a second.

She tells him as such on their last night, and laughs when he smiles knowingly. “We loved the simple things,” he says simply. “But we complicated them for the better.”


End file.
